


High Stakes

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Choking, Cum Eating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, F/M, It's a romance, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Pegging, Power Play, Rope Bondage, Samples Ones Own Cum, hidden under lots of kinky shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: Hi, I love your lucas x reader one shots. I was wondering if i could request one. How about FemReader takes bets with lucas as to what sticky end the visitors to the baker resident meet (& maybe that's how their relationship started, her betting against friends with him ) , and lucas and reader have to deliver sexually if they lose, both of them like to escalate to push the other, reader finds out lucas has no limits and has just about every kink going, and is petulant at this one sided game.A/N: Please see tags for warnings.





	High Stakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



**Day Ten… or Eleven. Week Two?**

“You know,” it comes out slow, like glue seeping out instead of words, “this… it's a waste of time. They don't even know what you’re doing to them.”

Lucas looks at you with a half-cocked grin - it never really goes away, just shifts into different edges and strengths. Sometimes he smirks, looking like the cat that ate the canary, but most times there's teeth and gum that poke through, making him look too much like a wolf in some Grimm fairytale. 

“No skin off mah’ nose. They don't gotta know. Ah’hell, they don't even gotta be alive fer this, but yur friend screams reah’ll good when she's scared. Heheee,” Lucas giggles, “you could learn ah’ few things from her.”

“... what... like sucking dick?” 

Mallory wasn't your friend, just happened to be in the same group as you. Wasn't even supposed to be in your group, but she wanted to get in close with Alex, your step-brother, and lucky for her Sid liked the idea of fifty bucks more than he did spending one evening in a tent with you. Four days into your ‘exposition’ and Lucas, this fucker, decides to shoot Alex in the throat. 

Now it was however long later, and Mallory, you, Carl and the Miley twins are chained to posts in this guy's barn. You can’t remember if you even shed any tears for your half-brother or not...

Lucas’ lips pucker into a giddy look, “Too good to wrap them lips around ah' dick, huh? Little miss fancy pants don’ wanna get her teeth all sticky.” 

You grimace, too weak to kick your leg out across the dead hay even though Lucas shows no concern for the small threat you provide, proving it by standing a foot away from your slumped frame. Not enough food, least, not real food, or water to keep you healthy enough to fight. Soon you’ll be too weak to talk your way out of this too. Already you're slurring, finding it hard to get the words out fast enough. 

“Another day…” you wheeze, “and they are gonna drop like flies before they hatch.”

“So, whad’you care?” He asks, picking at a blister on his palm, smirking with his brows and cheeks as much as his mouth. He's got the hood down today, and it's distracting somehow. Your eyes can stop following the blue network of veins down the cords of his neck. Even though he's ominous in the thrown up hoodie - all those shadows lying over the contours of his face - you think he's more threatening with it down. There's no getting around it; there's something wrong with him. 

“Fuck them,” you hiss, shifting weakly against the wooden railing, making your chains snag on a loose nail.

“Yeah, girl! That's there's the spirit! Don’ ever forget what they wanted to trade you fer. Pfff, like I needed their permission to fuck you. Coulda jus’ done it of mah’ own volition - I mean, do yur friends got brains or what? They don't own you… is what I’m sayin’, but if there were any real ownin’ goin’ on, it’d be me doin’ it.”

You were too focused on getting yourself free that it was easy to forget about that - that your ‘buddies’ were all too eager to notice the way Lucas looked at you. They offered you up for some mercy, some food or whatever the fuck they thought they could get.

With a toothy grin, Lucas nudges the side of your bare knee with the toe of his sneakers, “Awe, did ah hit a sore spot?! You gonna start givin’ me the cold shoulder, now? I ain't done a ‘Deliverance’ on you yet. So go on, smile!”

You throw him a narrowed look, forcing your lips up into a quick, shitty smile. Lucas laughs, and by now it’s not startling to hear, but it makes your innards squirm all the same. You’ve gone from pissing yourself in terror to finding your situation frustrating, rage-inducing and pathetic… and to a lesser extent sort of amusing. Say what you will about the atrocities Lucas has committed, but his sick sense of humor was infectious at times. 

At least Lucas seemed to enjoy your company, which made life a little less boring - let you focus on other stuff besides your imminent death/mutation. What was it about you that no one liked? - You were a bitch sometimes, uptight too… but you weren’t terrible. When did those assholes ever donate their hard earned money to relief efforts? - or spend a weekend at the Humane Society, cleaning up dog shit and getting said shit into cat scratches? When had they ever done anything that wasn’t for themselves?

After a long, hazy moment of self-hate fuel, you roll your head back, looking up at the man holding you captive. He’s eyeing you like he’s deciphering code, fingering an uncapped syringe. Your eyes bulge briefly - you hadn’t noticed that earlier. Could today be the day he finally puts you out of your misery? - and to think, you were just starting to enjoy your one-sided conversations.

A lazy, puffy smirk stretches his jawline. 

“Hey, I’ll tell ya what,” he punctuates with a lewd tongue swipe against his front teeth, “I’ll take them chains off, take ya aroun’ back, and you can tell yur buddies what I got planned fer ‘em. They’re too dumb to believe ya, but let’s say they do? We can play a little game, jus’ you an' me.”

“... why?” you ask, too tired to hide your distrust.

Lucas shrugs, twirling the syringe between his fingers, “‘Cause it’s boring as shit waitin’ fer you and them asshats to hatch. Plus, this little baby right here,” he aims the needled edge of the syringe towards you until a drop of clear fluid falls out the tip, splashing over your thigh, “is worth gettin’ yur tongue wet.”

It takes ten minutes before you decide this is one of those moments you’ve been waiting for - a little leeway to get you out of this mess; fuck over your so called friends. Lucas can have them. Let them rot here so you can go back to spending weekends helping people instead of thinking it would be such a great idea to go hiking with a bunch of assholes.

You’re not even all that worried about losing the best, which could be because of any number of reasons ranging from malnutrition all the way to psychosis. Lucas looks too pleased for this game to land in your favor, but you’ll have better luck finding freedom this way than remaining chained up in a pig pen until you turned into some mold-freak.

When Lucas returns, he’s got bolt cutters and a toothsome grin under that Romanesque nose of his. The first thing you do when he snaps the chains is roll forward and collapse into a pile of hay, giving your aching lower back a well-needed rest. Your shoulders throb along with your forearms and wrists. The stagnant blood starts circulating slowly, but you take a deep breath of animal waste and hay and let the shivers come and go. Lucas grants you mercy and waits, knowing you won’t run again. He’s thin, but he’s not brittle, and he’s fast, and you both know you’re not dumb enough to try a failing plan twice.

“A’ight, up and at um, baby.”

On arms that shake like thin branches in the wind, you prop your body up. 

Getting up is an arduous chore, but you manage it without his help… not that he offers any and once on your feet, Lucas takes your hand in his and pulls you stumbling and tripping out of your pen with a shrill chuckle. The big black thing isn’t behind the lift-bars anymore, which doesn’t make you sweat as much as it does fill you with apprehension. Big boy was too far away from the rest of your group for them to have seen it, but the sounds it made were loud enough. Surely they had heard it - surely that would be enough to convince them.

Lucas had separated you from your ‘friends’ when Mallory tried to take your clothes off with her feet while you were passed out from a low blood sugar drop - an effort on her part to make you more tempting when they turned you into a pointless sex offering. Desperate times, you thought then and still think now, except your opinion of them has only soured further over time.

Fucking assholes… maybe if you win this betting game with Lucas, you’ll request he carves insults into their foreheads.

Since being fucked over by them, you’ve been kept closer to the stairs where you can watch Lucas enter and exit the door above the rafters… plus it lets him regularly throw skittles and rolos at you which you barely manage to catch anyway, but the company hasn’t been all bad. There was that one evening he came down to play chess with you. Though he had to move your pieces for you, it was still as enjoyable as a night chained up in a barn could be. One day he even hosed you down, claiming you reeked too much to talk to before trying and failing to play a game of poker.

“Alright, you just ‘member yur side of the bet and I’ll ‘member mine,” he says beside you, tugging you around by the slack cut chain still attached to both your wrists. “Think it through an’ take yur time.”

The deal is that if any of them laugh when you tell them about the black monsters and Lucas’ plans to make them all walking mold bags, then you get the honor of letting him jerk off a wad of cum into your mouth. Sounded bad the first time he mentioned it but after a few moments of thought, you shrugged, agreeing. As nasty as a concept as it was, cum contained protein… and you needed something in your stomach before it started eating itself.

If they take your words seriously, even if they don't believe you, then the ‘antidote’ is yours. Who knows if it’s a cure or not? This situation only works if you can trust Lucas and you can’t, or maybe you can… but you don’t want to. As far as kidnappers go, he hasn’t raped you or hurt you - he refused to take you when offered up - and answered all your questions even when you didn’t want to believe them. 

Aside from the whole, kept against your will and slowly turning into a monster thing, there was little reason not to trust him when he said: “this shit right here is gonna keep you lookin’ cute and firm fer ah’ long ass time.” 

So there you stand, as Mallory looks at you under a curtain of dirty hair, sneering - as Carl gives you a detached look. The twins lock legs and hold their lips tight, watching you as if you’d never went to every birthday party of theirs since the fourth grade. 

Double crossing, shit stains, you think.

The air reeks of tension - folding into a dense layer between you and the people you’d once considered friends.

“What’s going on?” Carl asks, sounding afraid and raspy. 

As his mouth moves, you notice a dark stain growing from the corner of his nose, spreading upwards to his eye, which sinks a little more than the other. He’s changing already. The way everyone is huddled against their respective walls, as far away from him as the chains will allow says they’ve noticed too. The hatching has started, you realize, feeling a wave of panic. 

It might not be as hard to convince them as you’d thought.

With a deep inhale you step forward and quickly freeze in brief terror as Lucas yanks on your chains. No further, he says without words, watching you under a profound brow; lips slightly parted but still smiling. This is just another game to him, watching how this whole thing unfolds - just like that game of chess. For some reason, you think he's rigged this whole thing, so he wins either way. Antidote or wad of cum, they both feel like the same things in the end.

When you tell them all what's about to happen - what's similarly awaiting them based on what Lucas told you - it's Carl that laughs. It's a nervous, awkward crow that's meant to be the start of a group chuckle but it begins and ends with him. Mallory and the twins share a look; suspicious but they see the stain on Carl and put two and two together. 

They know something's not right. That doesn't do a damn thing for you, though, because Carl had to fucking laugh and now Lucas is giggling beside you. Lucas snorts, hiccups a laugh and tugs your chains roughly enough that you tumble against him; knees shaking. The short whimper that the physical contact pulls out of you just makes him laugh all the louder. 

Like a gaggle of fucking morons, everyone else starts to chuckle along with Lucas, as if there's a joke to get. There’s no joke, except for them. They’re the joke.

“Oh’ooh ho! Hooo fuck, well… deal's ah’ deal, baby,” Lucas grins; teeth dimpling his lower lip with barely contained glee. 

Deal's a deal, your mind repeats, wondering what the fuck you'd been thinking as Lucas starts to unbutton his pants. His shoulders shake with silent laughter, and out the corner of your eyes, you see Mallory tugging at her chains, looking distraught. It’s a bad time to remember you’ve never tasted cum before… never had a dick near your mouth. It’s more worrying to think you’ll gag and prove everyone right - that you’re a prude - rather than Lucas masturbating onto your tongue.

“See here, everyone…” Lucas wheezes with joy, “ this smart cookie is gonna get ah’ fat dose of some cure’all for a little oral atten’shun.”

Despite yourself, you blush, staring at a soiled patch of hay off to the side like it’s the most fascinating thing in the whole goddamn world. A cure all, you think with a frown. It’ll be nothing but a fat, gross load of jizz you get and maybe a snickers bar thrown at you later or maybe not because if Carl’s face is anything to go by, you’ll be hatching soon too. Why Lucas insists on turning this into something more than what it is, you don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. You lost, all thanks to Carl and his unwillingness to accept what was happening to him.

Chains shift and rattle against the posts where your ‘friends’ rest and without warning Mallory opens her mouth, “So, there’s a cure for this? - You… you’ve got an antidote right? You want a blowjob? I’ll give you one.”

Or maybe his plan was to get Mallory eager to swallow his cock down… hypocritical bitch.

“... you’re not gonna get a cure, you fucking moron,” you rasp at her, though she doesn’t even spare a single look at you, too focused on licking her lower lip at Lucas and forcing on a soft smile. 

With one fist in the slack of his pants, belt buckle swaying, Lucas produces that syringe again, waving it with a twisted grin that reminds you of a Clive Barker film. His eyes never lean on Mallory - he never once acts as though he’s heard her offer of dick sucking.

“… wait-” you blurt; eyes wide on the dribbles slipping down the needle.

“Com’on now,” Lucas growls around a thick tongue, licking the edge of his teeth, “that dumb wuh’n laughed. Time to open up!” 

He removes his hand from the corner of his pants, letting the baggy fabric fall down around his ankles, exposing a jutting pale cock so he can yank on the lax chains around your wrists, tugging you like some fucking dog to its post. The tug and pull mirrors in your gut, making a fuzzy heat grow down below. It’s psychosis - it’s some kind of psychological trauma that’s making your cunt slippery. If this situation is getting you wet while nice guys with genuine intent and desire to make you cum haven’t managed it, then you’re beyond screwed.

“The bet was, I get to throw a load down that purdy throat… so come on! Be a good girl, and I’ll even sweeten’ the deal and slip this here needle in ya after,” he hums off tune, immensely pleased if the hooded gaze and lazy smirk is anything to go by. “It’s ah’ win-win.”

When you bend your knees, falling to the scratchy hay with an open mouth, everyone lets out one long breath. 

Somewhere to your right, Carl is throwing a fit. Mallory and the twins watch with silence. You know they’re watching - can feel their eyes on you while Lucas holds the syringe between his teeth so he can wrap a fist around that shiny dick of his and start a firm mantra of strokes.

Lucas wraps your chains around his knuckles and yanks it back towards his hips, forcing you forward until you can smell the dark musk of cock. You’ve never been around the raw reek of flesh and sex before, even when you fucked you kept things clean and clinical. 

God, you think as your tongue lolls out of your mouth, maybe they were right. Perhaps you were a bit uptight...

His wrist rolls, corded with tendon and blue veins as he strokes and squeezes, cupping the flared head with a shine of spit at the edge of his grinning mouth. You wet your tongue after a minute in, staring up at him as your jaw starts to ache from keeping your mouth as wide open as you can manage. He’s oddly attractive at this angle. His sharp jaw line is broad, expanding around the syringe between his teeth. Those bulging eyes look less sunken, more sensual with the slightly lidded expression and there’s something sort of adorable about the stress lines in his sloping forehead and the little tufts of hair that are already beginning to dampen with sweat.

Lucas grunts, tugs on your chains again, forcing you so close that the bottom of his cock head bumps the tip of your tongue. The contact sends a jolt through the wet muscle, down your throat to flood between your thighs. It’s embarrassing, but it’s not the act itself that’s shameful, just that the eyes on you are judgmental; filled with disgust. 

Fuck them all, you think with saliva pooling at the back of your throat. 

Salty precum stains your taste buds as Lucas bumps your tongue again, scooting closer so he can squeeze that blushing cock against the cusp of your lips. True to his word, he doesn’t force your mouth around his cock - doesn’t shove it down your throat. The commitment to the bet almost allows you to trust him. 

Almost.

“H-her’ weh goh…” he groans around the syringe, exhaling hot breath in one long go as the first squirt of cum shoots against the back of your throat. It’s hot and abrupt, forcing you to jerk on instinct, but you stay firm, closing off the back of your throat as another fat string warms the depths of your insides.

“Oh’hiiit cuh’mmin… fuh’ck meh…” he sounds stupid, you think but it’s also hot as fuck, and while that’s troubling, you can’t help but let free a sticky moan as cum fills your mouth.

His fist slaps around his cock, sending the remaining jets to settle in a brimming puddle over your tongue. Most of it falls down your throat, but some slips around your teeth and one long trail manages to escape in a viscous line down the side of your chin. 

You’ve never tasted cum before, never wanted to… but, as Lucas’ brows pinch and that syringe-filled grin finally falls away into open-mouthed bliss, you swallow a wad of the mess, lips brushing the head of his cock, and taste nothing but musky salt - it’s not so bad. 

All the girls that you’ve listened to complain about it were full of shit, you think. Unconsciously, your tongue reaches out, catching a sticky glob off the slit on the tip of his dick, and gulp the rest down until your mouth is left empty but still saturated in that cum-flavor. 

No, you decide, not bad at all.

Lucas sighs through his nose, releasing his grip on your chains so he can pull the antidote from between his teeth. 

“Dayum, baby,” he wheezes, chuckles cut with a hard groan as his fist gives one last firm squeezing stroke from base to tip. A final bit of off-white leaks out and there’s no hesitation when you reach up with a hot tongue to swipe the cum away. 

From your right, one of the twins curses; metal clacking.

With little warning, Lucas punches the tender muscle between shoulder and neck with the side of his fist. It isn’t until a stinging warmth floods your body, that you realize the supposed cure is rushing inside your veins. It could be anything, but despite your tongue still swimming amongst traces of cum, you don’t think the worst. 

Mallory curses, kicking a crunchy pile of hay as her chains clink, “You gotta be fucking kidding me! Fuck-fuck you… you stuck up fucking slut… bitch-f'fffuck you!”

Lucas just laughs as you sit back on your heels, too weak to find a way back on your feet again. With the back of your hand, you remove the excess cum off your chin, feeling less and less sorry about the wild terror in Mallory’s gaze. She’s not triggering any sympathy with the insults.

“Someone's got a filthy fucking mouth,” Lucas giggles, nudging you with a bare knee as his softening cock sways wetly between his legs, “... how much ya wanna bet she tries to blow me when baby dick ovah there starts moldin’?”

“Blow you?” you muse, managing a weak laugh as a sudden chemical warmth begins to blossom in your chest, “... she’ll probably offer up the pussy.”

“Whatcha wanna bet she does?” Lucas leers, grinning with all the candor of an asshole that just spent a damn good load. So, looking like he does, why your lips curl into their own smirk, is beyond you at this point… and further solidifying your lack of sanity, you propose a bet involving all of them and an even more sticky proposition.

 

 

**Two Days Later…**

Aside from holding the door open for you and a “go’on git the fuck outta here” - which given the plethora of moldies outside, wouldn’t be good for you - Lucas gives you the next best thing. He allows you a hot shower which feels better than anything you’ve experienced prior. He the lets you eat some cold pizza, guzzle down a warm protein shake and give you free range of the luggage pile. Some of the stuff looks like it’s been around for a couple of years. It’s all clothes left behind by the dead, but it’s better than walking around in piss-stained jeans and a torn tank top. 

Plus, the flowy skirt and sweatshirt make it easy for Lucas to fuck you over the wooden railing when you lose your next bet.

All four of your buddies are black and gummy, skin sliding off like melting candle wax when Lucas, with his voice trapped in his throat, slips a lubed up dick inside you. It doesn’t escape your notice how his finger dance around your full backside - how his touch feels reverent.

The look of those weeping black bodies is a mood killer, to say the least, but it could be worse.

You were looking forward to winning the bet - to sitting on Lucas’ face until he passed out, but everyone had to go and hang around long enough to turn and hatch all while Lucas walked around with that bendy walk and that smug grin that said he was ready to cash in on your loss. 

So, you lost this one. So what? You’ve had two days to realize there’s something about Lucas that makes you wetter than a rainy day. You’ve come to terms with this...

Bent over the railing, looking down at wiggling bodies of bulbous black, you gasp out a loud moan as Lucas’ thumbs start to bruise your ass. Long fingers span your underbelly, keeping you firmly in place as he bends his knees and fucks up into you with meticulous precision. Every slap of skin is punctuated by a heady grunt behind you. 

Lucas fucks like he does everything else, with a level of smooth accuracy; tainted by a shit load of crazy. It’s invigorating, and with your palms braced on the solid wood, you press back into his rhythm, throwing him off only a second before that crazy comes out and he tears a hand off your stomach to squeeze the back of your neck. His hips curl - breath hot on the crest of your head - and that deliberate, brutal pace get’s turned up to eleven.

It’s the first time you’ve ever come with a cock inside you and… based on some snooping and innate perception, you think it’s the first time he’s ever blown a load in a girl also. First time for everything you think, coming down off the high from an orgasm you weren’t expecting; sweating under his manic touches and squeezes. It's no lie when you decide that this feeling could be similar to being reborn.

Something about cumming, getting cum in and watching a bunch of assholes get what they deserve, marks a pinnacle moment in your life. It’s here, with Lucas laying smiling kisses between your shoulder blades, that you start thinking you’ll never last outside these walls. Even if he let you go, he’s stained you.

His fingernails tease your belly, making you burst out in forced giggles and just like that your inner terror is dampened. All good vibes aside, it's zero for you. Two for Lucas.

Next betting spree, you’ll make sure to win.

 

 

**Lunch Date.**

“You just wanna see him die. I get it, but this guy's a Navy Seal. I’m telling you.”

“Ha! Fuckin’ Aquaman ain’t got nuthin’ on Mommy an’ Daddy,” Lucas assures you, slurping up the dregs of a lukewarm soda through a curly straw, looking incredibly sure of himself as the bank of monitors stalk said guy along a swamp-rotten bridge to what he called “The Old House.” 

Lucas has the whole length and width of the property wired with cameras, motion trackers, and infrared lenses. His villainous setup spans the wall of his ‘lair;’ tables littered with scrap and electrical junk in uneven patterns… not to mention the musty mattress shoved into the corner - the metal bed frame around it looks like it's on its last legs. So far you’ve avoided laying on that gross thing, instead sleeping on the couch by the band saw, but every time you look at the bed, you get the feeling you’ll end up on it eventually.

You narrow your eyes, curling your fingernails on the back of his computer chair, and give the whiteboard to your left a worried look. 

In bright red marker, Lucas has written his name and yours across the top. The third row has yet to be won, but you can feel sweat on the back of your neck just thinking about what’s under his column. Lucas has started keeping score of your bets; two smiley faces sharpied on his side next to the acts he’s gotten to perform: jerkin’ for Jesus and cherry poppers. 

He was more tolerable as a virgin, you’ve come to realize. 

He’s unflatteringly smug despite being on the ass-end of his twenties and only just now losing his v-card. Though, to be fair, it’s just as annoying as it is cute. 

Moments like this, when your brain fires the word ‘cute’ in conjunction with ‘Lucas,’ you know you’ve gone off the deep end. Certifiably insane. Even the annoying ‘slurp-slurp’ of his soda is oddly charming.

“I hate your nicknames,” you mumble, glaring at the list, making sure to ignore the third one. As long as Navy Seal guy takes down either Mommy or Daddy before dying, then you win and Lucas loses. God, you need to win one, just one is all you want at this point. Three strikes and you might as well call yourself fucked for the rest of your days - figuratively and literally.

“Pur’ticularily proud of the third one. Mah dick’s been at half mast all mornin’.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you muse, making a stupid face at the back of his head. 

Lucas giggles up a torrent so loud you can barely hear the inevitable altercation between Lucas’ mother and Navy Seal guy. The camera fizzles out long enough that your heart leaps into your throat, thinking your eyes on the screen will somehow give this dude some edge on the maggot-infused woman stumbling fast across wooden floorboards; knuckle dragging and lips peeled back. You grimace with hot eyes on the screens as they flip to and fro. The angles make you dizzy but you follow the scene of breathtaking carnage with the same sick exhilaration as Lucas… well, maybe your attention is for different reasons. Lucas just wants to do whatever ‘shibari’ means which, without knowing anything about it, sounds like it involves knives and you’re not looking forward to whatever that could entail.

When Aquaman sets Mommy dearest on fire with her own lantern, only to catch his boot on an upturned floor board, diving head first into a dock post which sends him dead cold into the swamp, you exhale with relief. Death was a shame - the guy seemed wholesome enough, but he was fucked anyway. A better death to just drown without realizing it than the alternative. 

You had to stay in a room with Lucas’ Dad long enough to know the old man could drag out death for an obscenely long amount of time. Drowning was better.

“Day’um,” Lucas breathes, sounding less than discouraged about losing. You purposefully wrote down something that would shame any man… or at least gross them out, but Lucas was proving to be one kinky motherfucker. 

There was something refreshing about it. 

What with all the stuff you talked about and the general enthusiasm he showed at the mention of anything sexual, was making you realize things about yourself you’d since dismissed. Even at the peak of most people's sexual curiosity, you had very little. Every time someone would discuss the nasty shit they got up to over the weekend you’d curl your nose and walk off. That type of attitude didn’t take long to get you a reputation for a prude, which backfired incredibly well considering most guys saw that as a challenge, as if once you got a good look at their cocks, you’d melt like the ice caps, which didn’t happen. Never would, as far as you were concerned.

Except it has now. Somehow.

There was something about Lucas - something unhinged and eager for anything and everything that lifted the sexual blockade you’d put in place. This little tickle in your gut when he licked his lips or wagged those dumb eyebrows were hard to explain, but it wasn’t your imagination. No… Lucas made you wet and you were starting to forget that was a major problem. The fact that he’d ignore Mallory all three times she offered herself to him, makes him oddly gallant your opinion.

As Lucas swivels around in his chair, throwing you a wet-lipped grin with his fingers already working on the snug loop of his belt, you try not too, but end up smirking despite yourself.

“Hope you’re hungry,” you jab, crossing your arms under your breasts with a stiff spine and bright eyes.

“Won’t be the first time ah’ sampled it,” he admits, flicking the tip of his tongue at you like some snake tasting the air, “gotta make sure it’s good an’ creamy for a gal like you, don’t I?”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust, or at least you tell yourself it’s disgust. For some harebrained reason, you find that the idea of Lucas sticking curious, sticky fingers into his mouth makes you wetter than a summer storm. It’s pretty fucked up, but you're getting used to the self-hating pleasure real quick.

Deciding you’re too prideful to show how this is affecting you; you keep your face a blank mask as Lucas pulls his dick out of the slip of his boxers, giving one girthy side of it a flick of his fingers before wrapping both long-fingered hands around it. 

It’s big enough for two hands. Why the universe saw fit to bless Lucas Baker with a big dick is anyone's guess, but it felt good when he was losing his virginity with you over the barn balcony… and you can’t help but think it’d feel even better if you sat on it.

It’s disturbing, yet fascinating to watch the way Lucas cups the near-purple head of his cock with a curling palm - rubbing it rather than thrusting - which he does to the length of his dick in swift succession. It takes forever it seems until his hips are bouncing in his seat, shoes skidding on the floor as his head tips backs, exposing the unprotected tendons in his throat and jerks a fat load into the palm of his hand. 

Snorting breathes wheeze out of his nose as he catches his breath. Those large, cracked-out eyes roll and close, blinking blearily up towards the ceiling before his throat wobbles and he’s grinning down at the puddle of thick cum in his hand. 

“W’welp, as they say, baby. Bottom’s up!”

Never before have you blushed so hard that it felt like your cheeks were going to explode - the heat rash spreads down your chest all the way past your tits as you watch Lucas lap up massive doses of cum like it’s freshly whipped buttercream. He finishes the whole palm full, sucking off the excess that runs down the edge of his hand with bright, piercing eyes that never leave your own.

It’s all you can think about for the rest of the day, and though he looks surprised when you accost him later in the night, pulling him down to the couch with a wordless request and unbuckle his pants, you get the sneaking suspicion he’s less than shocked.

Fucker...

 

 

**Second Win.**

Lucas loses a bet against two police officers that he foolishly thinks will stay together, but of course, that was giving them too much credit. 

You tell him, with confidence, that they’ll split up around the time they see Eveline in the hallway or spot the double stairwell looming on either side. They take the stairs on different ends and go through opposite doors, which is their downfall of course. Either way, they weren’t leaving alive and it’s your second win - two wins in a row. 

Once again though, Lucas doesn’t look the least bit worried he won’t be fucking you in the ass anytime soon (which was his prize if he won, something you were not looking forward to in the least bit).

He’s out his chair so fast that the seat spins into a blur. You watch Lucas as he shimmies his hips until his pants fall down - the sight is a bit comical, enough that you put a hand over your mouth to block the laugh. The rest of his clothes hit the floor, leaving him buck ass naked as he hops up on the cleared-off table with a smug look and spreads his arms and legs without a single word. It looks like he’s getting ready to sunbathe… except for his dick is pounding upwards, ready for attention

The way his fingers and toes twitch bellies his internal excitement. 

It’s infuriating, but you won, so you’re also pretty chuffed with yourself as you tie off his wrists and ankles to the table posts, ignoring the errant giggles that escape his throat when your nails skim the thin skin around his bonds. 

You’ve spent your rare free time, while he sleeps, looking up kinky shit on the internet. During your searches you found out what shibari is, but the knots and loops were too complex for you to make them work without practice, so what you decide to do to Lucas today is a bastardized version of it at best.

Since Lucas is unabashed, or at least it would seem that way, you’ve left your bet open to tying him up and ‘having your way with him.’ At first, Lucas didn’t like the idea, said you’d run off, but he warmed up to it after you had explained that the terrors which awaited you outside his hideout were way worse than anything he could dish out. 

It would be a lie to say the idea of running didn’t cross your mind as well, but only briefly. 

There have been enough horrors of unrealistic magnitude that you’ve had the ‘pleasure’ of watching on Lucas’ video feeds and you don’t want to know what it feels like being skinned alive and eaten piece by piece until you’re shit out in a corner. 

Now that Lucas is wiggling his limbs like this is all some game he's already won, you want to make this as unpleasant for him as possible. He's pretty good about dishing out orgasms. The times when you're bored and wanna get fucked into sleep are always pleasant, but he gets his in the end as well. This time - this time you don't want him to cum. 

As you start laying down more rope, slipping lengths under his back to look around his stomach and knot it back around under the table, Lucas starts to get impatient. He grunts and grins and makes filthy comments about the heft of your tits and how “if ya wanna expunge some’uh that bitch attitude yur more than welcome to shove them tits in mah face until ah’ croak.”

Even immobile on a table, with about a hundred feet of rope latticing him down, he still acts like the upper hand is his. You like Lucas, for some fucking reason, but you really hate his lackadaisical attitude when it comes to this game you both play.

In a moment of desperate genius, a light bulb goes off. A beautiful little idea. 

With your own matching smirk, you give him a soft kiss, one he can’t deepen due to the rope laid over his throat, keeping his head down and disappear from his line of sight. 

You take your sweet ass time looking for what you need until he starts making frustrated grunts, deflating audibly as he grumbles, “Come on now… ah’ got a real nice present fer ya, jus fer you! It's gonna go bad unless ya bring that sweet ass on ovah’ here soon.” It sounds so much like a bad sing-song that you roll you eyes.

You mouth off silently as Lucas keeps speaking, making a mocking ‘Lucas expression’ while yanking out the laces from a pair of sneakers shoved underneath his desk. The long, skinny nylon cord makes a fun little crack of sound when you snap it; loud enough that you catch Lucas jerk at the sound out the corner of your eye.

He's obnoxiously quiet when you return to his side. All he gives back is that toothy grin of his that makes the unshaven line of his jaw look rough enough to grate your skin off. 

What you want to do is sit on his face, maybe suffocate him a bit with your dripping cunt - the wet cunt he's created - but this’ll do fine until he can take a razor to that sandpaper skin of his. Knowing Lucas, he’d take great pleasure in mashing his face between your thighs until your flesh was red raw. 

Better to ride his dick until he loses his damn mind. That’ll knock him down a peg.

Lucas doesn't bat an eye when you place a palm over the razor edge of his hip, letting the blood-fat weight of his cock pulse over his navel with a disgustingly visual surge of blood. A little string of pre-cum dribbles to his belly, bridging cock and navel. The sight is way hotter than it ought to be. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ 'bout?” He drawls with a smile; voice on the high end of peachy pleased, at least until you produce the shoelace, arching a brow with the barest of rehearsed smirks. 

His grin doesn't drop, no… of course not, it just widens further, if that's even possible.

You wonder - as you cinch the shoelace under his cock and balls, making sure it’s tight enough to get a male hiss out of him - what it'll take to make him frown. 

The trapped blood makes his already stupidly large cock even more bulbous and swollen, looking like a tumor that’s about to explode. It must hurt him, because as you straddle Lucas’ hips and begin to ride that purple cock, his teeth keep mashing. The chords in his neck start bulging against the frayed rope, jutting to the point where it looks likes he’ll die from an aneurysm any second, but he doesn't stop grinning, even if sometimes it looks more like a grimace than anything. 

Your first orgasm only comes after your thighs start to burn, and you desperately put two fingers to your clit, pinching the nerve until it aches worse than your bruised cervix does. The sight of Lucas with cherry red abrasions edging the cut of rope triggers something long buried. Your cunt writhes around his cock; sucking down as it shivers. You shouldn't be forcing yourself down so hard or so entirely on him, but it feels good despite the burst of panic - a primal awareness that says you're gonna hurt yourself. 

Harm means something different to you now, so you keep slapping your ass over his tight balls, taking him to the hilt until you come undone a second time, letting loose a noisy squeal. 

It's only when you stop to catch your breath, blinking hazily down at him, that Lucas starts looking uneasy. The beat and pulse of his cock inside you overpowers the contractions of your twitching insides. Which, considering how much they’re contracting, says a lot for how much blood is trapped inside him right now. 

“How's it feel, Lucas?” You ask, breathless as you roll your hips, tipping back and forth in a very stimulating but forgiving way. Doing all the work is straining, but the sweet burn in your stomach and thighs adds to the pleasure. God, it does feeling fucking good. A guy like him should not be able to do this to you. 

“If mah dick... shit,” he tips his scalp back along the table, swallowing around rope, “if it goes off like Fourth ah’ July it ain't gonna be me diggin’ chunks outta yur pussy,” he says that like he couldn't care either which way, but the not-so-subtle tug on his ropes says more than words ever could. 

By the time you work yourself through a sluggish third orgasm, Lucas is sniffling; narrowed eyes tearing up and that grin is muted into a smiling grimace that looks borderline painful than pleasurable. It’s obvious he’s trying his hardest to keep the act up, despite the discomfort of having a distended cock tied off for so long. Your third orgasm ends with the added pleasure of listening to Lucas beg you for mercy.

“Motherfucker! Fuh’ck… fuck,” he sucks in breathes through clenched teeth; drool sliding out down the side of his lips, “please, baby. G’give me ah’ little compassion here why doncha, please! Fuh’k!”

Like the bitch all your friends thought you were, you laugh at him until tears grow in his eyelashes. Lucas’ cheeks go a rosy red and like a broken pipe he finally hisses in pain.

“... please,” he intones again, more desperate this time, while you dig your nails into the rigid line of his stomach. Just hearing him like this makes your cunt squeeze his crude dick until a fat tear slips down the side of Lucas’ face and he's finally… finally frowning. 

There’d been no plans to let him cum, but when you roll off his lap after a fourth climax and finally remove the shoelace from the swollen organ, fountains of jizz bubble over the bulging cherry-tip of his dick; falling in goopy, gushes down the twitching length. It's one hell of a sight, but the orgasm looks more painful than anything, so you keep him tied up for an hour after… just in case he’s got violence on the brain. 

Luckily, all he does that night is cuddle you, as if something about today has made the fucker fall in love with you. 

 

 

**Breathless.**

Mr. Quarterback with the baseball bat takes a blow to the head and dies before he can make it to the van parked out front, so Lucas gets his third win in with a celebratory kick of his legs and all the glee of a six-year-old, except his trophy isn’t some plastic gold trinket that’ll sit on his nightstand until he’s too old to give a shit - no, he wants you to choke him while sliding your cunt over his cock. Lucas wants to play air games and make a mess all over his stomach while he’s at it.

He preemptively drops his pants before the guy that succumbed to the moldy man’s backhand has stopped twitching. You watch from the center of the room; thumbnail stuck between your teeth as Lucas throws himself on the couch in the corner of the room and slaps his stomach in a gesture that says ‘hop to it, baby.'

At least he didn’t insist on the mattress.

His eyes follow you hotly as you slip your skirt off, having decided not to wear underwear today, given what was going to happen either way the outcome. Your naked skin makes Lucas swallow audibly, looking at the peek of pink like it’s a cold glass of water on a hot day. You step carefully across the cement floor towards him and the weeping cock jutting up from the divot of his bony hips. The lights twinkle off a pearl of pre-cum that you try to ignore as you shove his hips towards the edge so you can slide a knee between him and the back of the sofa. 

“Don’ worry if ah’ pass out or nuthin’,'” he breathes, drawing in a nasally inhale as if trying to smell your cunt. He already sounds out of breath, even though the only brush of your skin on his is your inner knee along his hip.

“Jus’ make sure I’m awake when I cum, ‘aight?”

“Maybe you should have a sign for when you’re getting too fuzzy,” you offer, settling down on his lap so the wet slide of your flesh is plastered over his balls. 

Lucas dimples your waist with his fingers, dragging you forward until your cunt has his cock pinned to the line of his stomach. He sighs, looking like he’s finally found a slice of peace after a long hard day. Lucas snorts through his nose until your thumbs edge the front of his long, stiff throat. The way he looks up at you is more intimate than it should be - like you’re lovers and not captor and captive.

“If ah’ start slackin’ off here,” he gestures with wild, affectionate eyes at his hands around your waistline, giving the flesh a hard squeeze, “let up ah’ bit.”

You nod, letting him set a smooth, wet slide as your hands apply pressure around his throat. The slippery drag of your clit down the rigid line of cock is enough to make your fingers clench involuntarily. 

A choked, overly giddy sound slips past your grip, rushing out of him on a reedy exhale. For once you start to feel like Lucas’ win is more yours than his. The beat of his heart under your hands is compelling. This control - this intoxicating power is making your muscles twitch excitedly. 

Though you cunt clenches down on nothing, it feels just as sweet as when he stuffs you full of dick. Every wheeze, growing gradually thinner, sends a pang up your stomach and a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” you whisper, licking your lips furiously as Lucas’ eyes start watering, “thinking about snapping your neck is getting me off.” 

He blinks; lips curling deviously despite the twitch of stress at the corners. As the tickle of your climax flares to life, Lucas’ eyes flutter backward, replacing pale blue with empty white, and his fingers go loose around your waist. It's hard to tell yourself to slack off… he won't die even if you keep holding firm and even, but you're not sure you're ready to end this adventure of yours. You’re certain you’re not ready to see the light go out of his eyes.

Lucas gasps as your grip lessens. He sucks in a deep breath, hands clamping back around your waist with renewed vigor and just like that you start applying the pressure back until his eyes are bulging and his fingers are leaving behind extensive welts. Sliding with all your body weight over his drenched cock, you lean into his throat, giving him all you’ve got until his face turns blue and those thick veins on the sides of his temple start pulsating.

His throat twitches in time with his cock, and as soon as you notice the flare of his cockhead pulsate and that first squirt coat his chest, you release his throat to a litany of beautiful gurgles. The noises he makes reminds you of when you'd removed the shoelace last week, but instead of his cock dribbling cum, it shoots out thick jets so forcefully that a line spreads all the way up to the curve of Lucas’ lower lip.  

His chest expands to twice its size; swallowing oxygen like he's been trapped underwater for too long. Breath rattles out of him as fresh white rivulets pool and slide down the thin, quiver length of his chest.  

“Everything you'd hoped for?” You ask quietly, not trusting your voice after witnessing his explosive orgasm. 

You’re clit is still pounding, but there’s a spreading heat that feels like affection, despite that being impossible. No soul-damning climax for you this time, but for some reason, the lack of completion doesn't ruin your satisfaction, which comes from somewhere less physics and more… emotional? - metaphysical? You're not certain, but watching Lucas shudder through this last go is making you question more than your sanity. 

“E’everythin’ an' more, buttercup…” he sighs, smiling dopey and sleepy and looking boyish compared to the way he usually looks. It's decided then that you like him smiling more than you do with his lips screwed down the other way. 

Wanting Lucas to be happy is a bad, very bad sign. 

 

 

**One Month Later.**

It hits you for real this time, as you pause in your thrusts that Lucas has no limits and neither do you. 

You’re pretty sure you could cut his cock off and eat it right in front of him and he’d find a way to bust a nut and grin about it. You’ve been upping the ante, especially with the last batch of college students that were stupid enough to ring the Baker’s door bell when their car broke down. 

Like, seriously? Fucking idiots. 

You spent your last winning bet on torturing his cock and balls (with razors, heels and your fingernails) and the asshole still ended up cumming on your face without warning. You still can’t look at him without imagining that smug, gummy grin when you had his cum stinging in your left eye.

This time you’ve gone a different route. 

Most straight guys would balk at the idea of getting fucked up the ass, let alone a single little finger, but Lucas just laughed and kicked his feet, rubbed his hands together like a giddy dope fiend and now you’re plowing him with a strap-on of his own design while you etch welts into his spine with a blunt box cutter. He’s cum once already, but the deal didn’t say you had to stop when he came… if anything it ended when you did and you planned on going a little bit longer, at least long enough to get him hard again.

The noises he’s been making are haunting - wet grunts and teeth-clenching growls that sound like he’s getting a tooth pulled, but judging by the way his spine is bowed and the hissed ‘encouragements,' he likes it more than you could have dreamed. 

Plus, a wad of cum is already cooling on the mattress, so there's that little indication as well.

“I feel like this is where I get to call you a dirty slut, Lucas,” you whisper against his bloody, bony spine, smiling to yourself when he whimpers as you drag another skinny line of red around the buckle of his ribs. 

You pull your hips back, shove a palm between his shoulder blades and pick up the pace into something resembling a hard fuck. He’s tight and while you’ve developed a bit of a sadistic streak, you don’t want to hurt him this way. It’s slow but intense, and with a moan you toss the blade across the room, reach a hand under his stomach to finger his cock and laugh at the hard dick you find. 

Already, huh?

“You better place a smarter bet next time, baby… cause I wanna fuck a guy getting fucked in the ass next time.”

That confession seems to do something physical to Lucas because in a matter of seconds his cock is surging in your palm and another squirt of cum is slapping the damp patch underneath him. 

“Fuck, come on…” you groan, slapping your hips into his bony ass out of anger this time. Lucas, despite grunting through a second orgasm, manages to giggle; breathless and manic and all sorts of fucked up.

Your fist tightens - he chokes on a sticky grunt, knuckles going white as a ghost's over the bed frame, “Ah’ jus did… heh’haaaa… Gawd damn that was ah’ good wuhn too.”

He can’t see it, but you glare down at him all the same. 

This was supposed to be for you and now it’s become pretty fucking clear that even if you win, Lucas wins as well. The stuff he does to you when his bet’s better doesn’t ever suck, but it’s obvious it’s his prize and not yours. Everything feels like a prize to him and it’s starting to piss you off. Even though his cock is flaccid, you give it another tight squeeze and stroke, ignore the burn in your thighs as you start fucking him as rough as you can manage.

If it hurts him, so fucking what?

The movements don’t come naturally to you. 

Lucas can fuck you better than you can fuck him, but it doesn’t matter because the grunts he makes finally sound strained and unpleasant; set you off like his tongue does on your clit. It’s almost good enough for you to come, but - minutes later - when his cock starts getting stiff again, you pull out, sparing a quick look at the mess you’ve made of him before shoving him over on his back and straddling his thighs.

If you thought he was fucked from the backside, he’s even more ruined on the front.  

Cum stains glisten in the hairs threading down his navel. The thin skin stretched over his abdominals won’t stop quivering and, with a wide grin, you note the tear tracks down his cheeks. The impudent fucker is still smiling - still looks beyond fucked in the best way possible, but his huge eyes are beaten red around the edges and seeing him so properly ravaged is all the sweeter when you sit down on his cock and ride him into your first and final bomb of an orgasm.

Lucas whines when you go limp. There’s no more moving. He might have gotten to cum twice but you bet another round of this that your one is ten times better than his two. It’s long and tight and all encompassing to the point that it reaches your brain in a spongy leak of endorphins way before it ever stops vibrating your cunt. Your chin slaps on his sternum on your way down; collapsing like the dead. 

You’re too exhausted to kick him off when he snarls, flipping you over so fast your head spins. Lucas starts hammering your cunt so hard it feels like your organs are getting jolted back and forth. The sound of his slim hips slapping your own is a deafening as gunshots and in a little edge of irony, your finger twitch around the bed frame, wrapping around a warm rod of metal… right near where Lucas’ hands had been moments ago.

You cum again; inner flesh shrinking down in a desperate attempt to squeeze whatever inhuman thing is destroying it. Luckily, whatever Lucas tears will heal and lucky for you… you like it rough - you like the tears that slip down your cheeks. You fucking love the sweat that sticks between your skins and the reek of sex and even the filthy mattress that was already a little damp before you started fucking Lucas on it.

You love everything right now - you even love Lucas. 

Above you, Lucas pants sweat over your bare tits, takes your wrists in his palm and pins you despite it not being necessary. Hot cock reams you through that sickly tight and powerful orgasm until he stutters, whimpering your name and cums again. There’s no gush of semen this time… no, you’ve drained his balls dry already, but you can feel the pulsations running through him.

“Ahhh’shit, baby… gawd, fuuh’ck me, right?!”

You blink away incoming tears as your heart pounds between your bare breasts, wondering if you’ll suffer a heart attack… or if you even can. Lucas rushes down as you whimper at another dense shockwave of pleasure - his lips coat your in a wet, breathless kiss. Teeth break soft, shreddable skin but the pain is tasty and warm and even though the muscles burn, you wrap your thighs around his narrow hips and suckle the tip of his tongue.

Against your parted lips, Lucas’ voice rumbles, “If you just ain’t the best damn thing to happen to me.” His tone is deep and dark; maliciously affectionate. 

You nearly fuck everything up and say something you can't take back, but thankfully Lucas ‘whoops’ and smacks your ass so hard that you throw your head back and yelp. 

“Gah’damn! Ah’ love you,” he grins, giving your ass another short slap before squeezing the burn, “ya’ know that right?”

You don’t want to admit that you feel the same way because Lucas can go jump in front of a fucking train for all you care… but that's also a lie because while this place is hell, truly hell, you don’t think you could last a day without Lucas at this point. 

“I fucking hate you so much,” you lie, smiling as Lucas giggles and slips out of you fast enough to make you wince. Retaliation, you think, laughing tiredly. 

“Yur gonna hate me, even more, when ah’ tell ya what I got planned fer next time.”

You don’t ask because you have a feeling you’ll be finding out soon enough and… knowing you, you’ll probably love it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you, Anon for sending the ask. I got to play with some grosser kinky stuff with this, which I'm enjoying way too much!
> 
> If you have the time, please let me know what you liked or if there are any mistakes I missed.
> 
> Another big thanks to DarthFucamus for checking this out before I posted it. She helps make sure it doesn't read like utter crap. <3
> 
> Tumblr ----> http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/


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